Night Veil (Page 32)

As I turned back to my bed, I caught sight of a shadow creeping along my wall. There was nothing for the shadow to be attached to.

Who are you? What do you want? I sent my thoughts forcefully on the slipstream, tired of games and pretenses.

It’s me, Kaylin. I’m dreamwalking. I need to show you something. May I come into your room?

The whisper echoed and I realized it hadn’t been off the slipstream, but somehow through the tiniest link of connection we’d forged while dreamwalking a week or so ago. The lines of communication were still there.

Relieved, and yet a little irked, I nodded. “Come in, but use the door.”

A few moments later there was a tap and then Kaylin entered the room, in the flesh. He was dressed in black, head to toe, and his eyes were luminous—more so than usual. He slipped over to my side and drew me to the bed, sitting me down.

At first I was a little nervous, remembering his behavior and threats when his demon had been in control, but he didn’t try anything. Instead, he simply put his hand on my arm.

“I was out dreamwalking and found something. You need to see it. Truly—I can’t exactly explain what it is, but I feel you would know. Come with me? I can take you along.”

“I know you can.” I frowned, wondering if it was safe to give in to him, to take off dreamwalking again, especially now. But the urgency in his voice convinced me he’d found something, and I gazed into his eyes. “I have been betrayed twice this week by people I thought were friends. Why should I trust you?”

“Because if I wanted to kill you, I would. If I wanted to fuck you, I’d have raped you by now. You know I have the power to do both and yet, I did not. I truly mean it when I say I have no ulterior motive with you, Cicely.”

“But why help me? I am walking in danger.”

“Yes, you are, but I’ve always walked beside death. I am a dreamwalker; I have a demon bound in my soul. I understand the night, and the dangers within. I understand what calls you under the wilding moon, Cicely Waters. I understand your drive to fly away, to be free.”

I gazed into his eyes, and I knew he was telling the truth. “Where are we going?”

“To the outskirts of the Golden Wood, but outside the boundaries of Myst’s hold. In a far corner. I’ve been exploring—trying to find something of use to us. Let me take you there. Dreamwalking . . . we can get there in no time. We won’t be discovered.”

I slipped into a warm turtleneck and a pair of boots. “Do you think I’ll need a coat?”

“I’d wear one. We may be dropping out of the shadows when we get where we’re going.” He was wearing a Windbreaker, I noticed, along with gloves and earmuffs.

I grabbed my jacket out of the closet and pulled on gloves and jammed a knit hat down on my head, then made sure I had my fan and my blade.

“You really have to get a better blade than that. We’ll go shopping over the next day or so.” He motioned to me and we lay down on the bed.

“Does anybody else know we’re heading out?”

“No, and I don’t think they need to. Not till you’ve seen this.” He held out his arm and I rolled into it, silent and waiting. And then, slowly, we began to blur, merging together, into the universe.

Dreamwalking. What can I say? It’s like melting from the outside in. From the toes up to the top of the head. Everything begins to dissolve and it’s easy to lose the sense of separation between self and everything that surrounds. Fingers and toes blur into legs, and arms blur into a nebulous energy as the lines of distinction vanish. Within a blink, I become part of the bedspread, part of the bed, part of the air and the floor. Breathing stops, and the fight-orflight reflex kicks in, but then—after a moment when the body realizes it no longer needs to breathe—there is calm . . . and then, the dreamwalking begins.

I opened my eyes and sat up, drifting lightly on the slipstream. Kaylin was beside me, and now I could tell just how much the demon’s awakening had affected him. His aura, which had been brilliant and strong before, was now glowing like a neon-infused Slurpee. He was supercharged. Not sure how that would translate over to practical application, I decided to pass on mentioning it until later. The first time he’d taken me dreamwalking, I’d been petrified and almost panicked myself into a frenzy. This time, I’d been prepared.

After a few minutes, my own shadowy form came into view and I was able to move around without feeling like I was going to float off. My room looked nebulous, but over on my dresser, where my magical tools lay, a haze of energy surrounded them—sparkling and crisp and clean.

Let’s move. Kaylin motioned to me and I followed him. I wasn’t sure how we’d get out of the building, but for us, the house didn’t fully exist and we were able to drift through the sparkling atoms that made up the physical form of the Veil House. As we reached the snow and hovered lightly over it, I turned.

The Veil House. Oh, the Veil House. Superimposed over the material structure was a web of energy that was threaded so intricately I almost couldn’t see the house for the lines. And a channel ran right below it, and a crosschannel. The Veil House stood on two ley lines that crossed paths. Powerful, old, ancient as the hills, the land beneath our house was like a reactor.

I gasped, but no air hit my lungs and once again, I startled. Kaylin’s hand rested on my shoulder, blending into my energy and calming me down.

The land here . . . the land is a powerhouse . . .

The land, but not the house. However, that’s not what I want you to see. However, it doesn’t hurt to know that you’re sitting on top of one of the strongest nexus points in this region. But come—we have much distance to travel. We can sweep there in no time, but take my hand or you might get lost in the astral turbulence.

I took his hand. Last time I was on the astral I’d almost gotten lost to the dreambeast’s appetite. But this wasn’t the same plane—this wasn’t the Court of Dreams, and I had Kaylin with me. As my hand touched his, our fingers blended together and we were off, sudden and swift, flying through the night, running through tree and wood and snow without leaving a mark.

In the clearing, in the midst of the snow, a statue rose well over twenty feet. The statue of an owl, carved from marble. And around the statue, a group of men and women danced around a slab of stone to which was tied one of the Shadow Hunters . . . but he was not fully of the Indigo Court. He was also one of the Cambyra Fae—I knew it with the core of my body and heart.

The dancers were Uwilahsidhe. My people. And leading them was my father—Wrath, the King of Rivers and Rushes. As he danced wildly around the marble slab to a hail of pounding drumbeats, his followers matched every move. Standing to the side, I caught sight of Geoffrey and Lainule, standing silent, watching.

And Grieve, tied to the slab, looked terrified, in fear of his life.

Chapter 19

Grieve! My first instinct was to leap forward, but I managed to stop myself. I held back, waiting, watching. My wolf didn’t seem in any pain, and though Grieve looked terrified, the wolf wasn’t whimpering. Perhaps he had given up. Or perhaps his subconscious sensed they weren’t going to hurt him. At least I hoped that was what it meant.

And truthfully, they didn’t seem to be focused on killing him. Nobody carried a weapon that I could see. All the while, Geoffrey’s invitation rang in my head. The fact that he was here led me to believe this was what it was about. They’d caught Grieve, that was obvious, and they were doing something to him.

I motioned for Kaylin to wait, and then I began looking around. As I tried to gauge where we were, I realized that we’d passed through a portal while dreamwalking. This was part of the Golden Wood, yes, but nothing the Shadow Hunters could see or touch.

As I relaxed, trying to focus on seeing through to the physical, I began to notice something behind the owl statue. It was a figure, hidden in the shadows of the night. Not a Shadow Hunter . . . no, this was too . . . corporeal for one of the Vampiric Fae.

I moved closer to get a better view and gasped, motioning for Kaylin to join me. Behind the statue, hiding himself so he could not be seen, was Lannan Altos.

What the fuck is he doing here? And if he’s supposed to be here, why is he cloaking his presence?

A sudden swell of danger rose up on the slipstream and I tensed. The dancers were raging now, wild and filling the air with their chants. Geoffrey held up a needle and walked into their center, leaning over Grieve.

The antidote. He was going to try the antidote.

Grieve looked up at him, at the syringe, and clarity filled his face. He stopped struggling and I could hear his words through the music, through the dancing and drumming. On the slipstream they flew, from his lips to my ears.

Whatever happens, I love you. Whatever they’re doing to me, I sense you near and I will love you forever, Cicely.

There was no recrimination in his voice, no sense of fear, only brilliant love. And I fell into his heart, tumbling head over heels. If Grieve died from this, so would I, and I wanted to live, but I wanted him with me.

Geoffrey jerked his head up, looking directly at me.

He can’t see us, can he? Vampires don’t have the natural ability to see out on the plane of shadow and smoke, do they?

Kaylin’s fingers rested gently on my shoulder, blending with my own essence. No, he cannot see us, but he seems to know something’s up. Perhaps he heard Grieve talking?

That must be it. And if he’d heard Grieve talking, either he would think it delirium or he’d know I was prowling around out here. Either way, I chose to remain right where I was.

And so we watched, as Geoffrey finally lowered his head back to Grieve and leaned over my suffering prince. He held up the syringe, almost as though he wanted me to see it, and brought it down toward Grieve’s arm.

“Stop! What do you think you’re doing?” Lannan stepped out of the shadows. Even from this distance, I caught the glare on his face.

“Lannan. I don’t remember requesting your appearance here. What are you doing?” Geoffrey stopped short of injecting Grieve, and I tried to catch my breath but was once again rudely reminded that I was in shadow form, not breathing.

Lannan held up his hand. “Don’t do this. Let the Vampiric Fae die. Let him rot in the moldering mess that you started so many years ago. Don’t even pretend we need him—we don’t. The only reason you could want him alive is to win over Cicely to your side because Lainule put an end to your other scheme. Well, I can guarantee the current one won’t work either, not once she finds out what plans you have for her and her beloved feral boy toy here. She’s mine, Geoffrey, and I don’t share well with others.”

Geoffrey snarled at him. “You do not have the authority to alter my decisions, nor do you have the balls to fight me. Don’t even try, Golden Boy. I can stake you like a tomato. I didn’t become the most feared warlord in history by backing down to sycophants and hedonists. The land ran red under my rule and my people learned to fear me.”

Lannan took a step back, and I could see his eyes grow wide, the shining black orbs glistening in the dim light.

“You’ve never understood the finer points of living. You thrive on bloodshed, and this time is not kind to warlords. You’ve outlived your place, Geoffrey. You should just walk into the sun while you still have your dignity.”

With a low growl, Geoffrey strode over to clasp Lannan by the collar and lift him off the ground. Lannan didn’t resist, and though I was glad to see him get smacked down, the fact that someone could force him to endure such an indignity scared the fuck out of me.

Lannan let out a short laugh, but Geoffrey choked it off. “Laugh if you will, for now, boy. But don’t ever forget how we met. I took down a hundred of Regina’s men, singlehandedly. I bloodied your palace and captured Crawl for the Crimson Queen. I had the Oracle on a collar when I took him to the Queen, when she laid the curse on him. And you . . . you and your sister crawled on your bellies at my feet, begging for your lives. Regina has her position solely with my backing, and you live only because she has a passion for you. Interfere with my plans, and you’ll watch your stable die one by one, before I make you my whipping boy.”

Lannan let out a short sound, but quieted, and Geoffrey lowered him back to the ground.

“Tsk, tsk, Regent. Best watch your temper. If our Cicely finds out about your past—your present—truly, she’s not going to want to cooperate with you.” Lannan shook his head and turned away. “I won’t interfere, but I won’t help you, either. Not unless the Crimson Queen directly orders me to. I know too much about you.”

He looked up, turning my way, and for a moment I thought he could see me. As he stared in our direction, he added, “Geoffrey, you’d best walk softly. Myst is out for your head, and there are many who would serve you up to her on a silver platter. And Lainule, I urge you to be cautious. I would not see you hurt—you are too bright, too beautiful. Don’t trust this blood-monger. And don’t trust that breeding won’t play true. Cicely was Myst’s daughter. Do you truly believe her soul energy can’t outweigh mere blood?”

Lainule, who had remained silent through the vampires’ altercation, shook her head. “She will not revert. I have seen her heart, as have you, Lannan Altos. You seek to defile her; I seek to uplift her. Geoffrey is the fulcrum, a middle balance. And though I had to dissuade him of his original plan, the current one bears more promise. We have no hope left but to try it. Myst . . . you know nothing of the Queen of Shadow and Winter. She is evil incarnate. She is the long, dark deep of the winter. She is the shadow of the moon and the chill of bone and blade. I know her—she is my counterpart. She is my alter ego, my doom. Cicely is the key—her decisions set in motion events leading to an ending of this war. Geoffrey may have started it by himself, but he cannot finish it alone.”